~Onorata History
Hirako Shinji:
Affiliation: Anti-Mafia Commission
Rank: Captain
His Story:
Hirako Shinji didn’t have a background that most people would be interested in. In fact, if you asked him, he barely had a background at all. That was one good thing about being so high up in the Antimafia Commission. There was never any need for one to dig into your history, because you could, for all intents and purposes, make your own history.
As it was, Shinji’s history was hardly an exciting one. To a certain point, at least. He was one of those children with no parents. He had always assumed that he had one once, but that was long ago and by the time he was old enough to take care of himself or at least survive on the streets without being thrown in to random orphanages, he was long past the age where he remembered who they were and what they had looked like. Unlike most other children, however, he hadn’t really cared. Survival was survival in this city, he had learned from an early age. And he had survived and his parents hadn’t. It was as simple as that.
Still, it was an awful way to think. Wandering from group to group, Shinji became aware that, unsubstantiated theory or not, Darwin had been rather intuitive with the whole survival of the fittest shit. There were always those who were too weak to cut it. Who couldn’t avoid disease or who couldn’t defend themselves when the time came. Shinji saw more of them die than he had ever wanted to.
By the time he was 17, he had come to be sort of the leader of a group of street-wandering teenagers, just like him, who had, either fortunately or unfortunately, been the few to survive. They were the strongest. The ones who had defied Darwin and survived the streets and learned to kick ass along the way.
It was then that the AMC found this oddly placid group, wandering the streets, kicking what got in their way, but not really caring otherwise. The AMC offered them a deal. A few, harmless experiments for a temporary shelter. Afterwards, they could work with the AMC and find permanent shelter that way.
Shinji had thought it was a good idea. The rest did as well. It beat living on the streets and it wasn’t as though they had any reason not to agree. What the hell ever. As long as they weren’t directly dragged on one side or another in this absurd turf war they saw all around them. A few experiments couldn’t hurt.
It turned out they could. The pain, the experimentation, and the experience were unlike anything any of them could have imagined. It wasn’t a few simple experiments like they had been promised, but a series of painful ones that clearly messed with their genetic structures. With each round of experiments came a period of time to test the effects of the genetic altering. Shinji found himself grow faster, sharper, stronger. He developed a thirst for fight that he hadn’t known he had.
He wasn’t the only one. They all grew like that. But Shinji was the first to begin hearing the dark, menacing voice in the back of his mind. A sharp, cruel cackle, tormenting his conscience and questioning his power. Can ya really do this~? Are ya fit to call yourself the fuckin’ king? How ‘bout I show you what a fuckin’ horse ya really are~
The struggle with this voice grew as it became louder. The corner of his eyes would creep an inky black each time he began his fight and soon the others noticed as well. Not only for his physical changes, but because they, too began hearing their own inner monster. Their inner Hollow, as they called them.
What took most of them two to three years to master and control took Shinji one. Sure, the massacre of the group of scientist assistants working on him at the time hadn’t been ideal, but they had been in the way and Shinji had realized that for him to truly gain control of these unnatural powers from this monster within, he would have to let it take over his entire being for just one moment.
It was a moment that Shinji lost all control of his body and his mind. The end result was the skewering by sword of at least eight assistants. An hour later, the laboratory was in shambles. Blood and bodies, broken test tubes and glass littering the floor and broken tables. Shinji was slumped over in a corner, a white pharaohs mask covering half of his face, masking half of the triumphant smile that was spreading beneath golden irises gleaming in the middle of inky black eyes.
To his immense surprise, the Commission was only minimally angry about the people he had slaughtered. They were more impressed--intrigued by his newfound abilities and how quickly he had mastered the consequences of the experimentation. Their deal for not killing him right then-if they even could-was that he train and work for them for the next 10 years.
Shinji agreed again. He had nowhere else to go. The Commission was as good as any.
As his old friends eventually mastered their inner Hollows as well and were offered the same deal as himself by the AMC, Shinji continued training, fighting, and working for the AMC. He was the success of a string of experiments that hadn’t necessarily had any hopes of going anywhere.
By the time he reached age 24, his skill and knowledge were incomparable. He was more than a monster or the results of an experiment to the AMC now. He was an actual asset.
He made captain within the year.
Now, two years later, he is still one of the captains of the AMC, although, by his demeanor, attitude, laziness, and general choices in fashion and hairstyles, no one, who did not already know, would ever suspect him of being so. None of the higher-ups in the mafia families, at the very least. And that, as far as the AMC was concerned, was perfect.